


Unanswered Questions

by literati42



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Drugging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Gil gives good hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, PTSD, So much angst, chosen family, like I cannot overstate how much angst, mental health, suicidal thought mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 09:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literati42/pseuds/literati42
Summary: Malcolm opened the door to JT's questions, but he was not expecting to be sidelined so completely by one. Luckily Gil is an expert in Malcolm Bright.Spoilers: 1x02





	Unanswered Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Apparently I am trash for this show now! If you want to chat more about it with me follow me @themythofpsyche on twitter.
> 
> Also! I am going to try and do Whumptober so if anyone has requests, comment them!

Malcolm sat at the desk, occasionally pulling a drink from his mug of coffee. Dani was working at her desk, and JT was sitting at the table not far from him. He was aware of them. He was always a little aware of who was near him. Years of going to school as the kid whose Dad was a serial killer taught him to always know where people were in a room.

Gil walked in, on his way to the coffee machine. His presence was always a gentle comfort. He touched Malcolm’s shoulder as he went by, a soft pressure. The profiler leaned into the touch and still felt its warmth when Gil headed to the counter. It was a nice moment, calming. It felt like being part of the team and it was everything he wanted.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he raised his eyes to find JT staring directly at him. The man did not look away even though he was caught. Malcolm repressed a sigh. He was glad that JT was not afraid of him, most of the time, but he was now treating Malcolm like a novelty, something to stare at and maul over. It was a bit like being an ant examined under a magnifying glass. He could only hope JT would not decide it would be more fun to burn him than stare at him.

“Alright, what is it?” Malcolm said. Gil stopped, lowering the coffee pot to look over and Malcolm heard the squeak as Dani turned to watch as well.

“Nothing,” JT said, pursing his lips dismissively.

“You have more questions,” Malcolm said, he put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Go ahead. I can handle it.”

“The snake thing…” JT said, “Did you have them as a like…little kid or later?”

“Do you mean, did my dad buy me poisonous snakes to play with?” Malcolm asked. “He didn’t, and they weren’t poisonous. I was just interested in snakes, so I learned about the different types. The ones I had were harmless and incredibly friendly.” He gave a tight smile. “I had them as a teenager. My mother insisted I get a hobby. Of course, I suspect she meant lacross, but I preferred snakes.”

“For the danger right? That’s what interested you? How dangerous they are?” JT asked.

“JT,” Gil said, tone hard. Malcolm held up his hand.

“Actually, I like how they didn’t judge me.” He tipped his head slightly, and JT had the good sense to look a little ashamed. “They can be friendly creatures. I needed friends.” Obviously, JT was not too ashamed because he leaned forward about to ask a question.

Gil came over and squeezed Malcolm’s shoulder. “Alright, enough.” He said.   
“Yeah just…” JT stopped, “Yeah okay.”

“No,” Malcolm motioned him forward, “You still have a question. We’re a team now right? So, go ahead, detective. What is bothering you?”

“Bright.”  
“No, I want to know. You didn’t really want to ask about the snakes, so what’s your real question?”

JT looked at Gil and then Dani, “Honestly, man.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Malcolm said.

“Well it’s just…you said the whole time your father was the perfect dad. He was really that great of a guy the rest of the time?”

The room. The box.

The hands behind him, lifting him off the ground, chloroform over his mouth. Screaming, kicking.

“Bright?”

His eyes snapped up to Gil, to the worry in them. He felt his hand trembling and slid it under the table. “Ah, yes,” he said. Damn, he thought. His voice was shaking. “He made me coco, played monopoly, watched Disney movies on Sunday nights, read me stories.”

Box. Hands. Chloroform.

“Um,” Malcolm said, “So…you know. Picture perfect.”

Hands. Screaming.

“Bright, breathe.”

_-_-_

Gil realized at once he should not have let this happen. He did not want to swoop in and save Malcolm. No, that was not true. He always wanted to swoop in and save him, but he knew well enough that Malcolm would never make a place for himself on the team if Gil always interfered. If only the kid ever, ever knew his own limits. Bright let JT examine him like it was a challenge, like he had something to prove. What? That he was normal? That nothing bothered him? It might have worked on JT, but not the rest of them. Gil knew Malcolm too well and Dani already seemed to have his number.

Malcolm never lied to Gil unless it was about his wellbeing. “I’m 100% fine” he said at the beginning of this last case. Right. Malcolm Bright was never 100% fine, not a single day since they met. But maybe Malcolm could have convinced JT he was if it was not for that one question. Was Martin Whitly really an ideal dad? Gil watched Malcolm as he spoke. He saw the devil may care smile fade. He watched as Malcolm went completely still except for the trembling in his hand. He saw his eyes drop away from JT and grow distant.

Gil felt a clench in his gut. The profiler had made that claim about his father without hesitation the day before, but something changed since then, and there was no chance the change was good. “Bright?”

Malcolm’s eyes jerked up and met Gil’s, scared.

“Ah, yes. He made me coco, played monopoly, watched Disney movies on Sunday nights, read me stories.” His tone was flat save for a slight shake.

Being a part of Malcolm Bright’s life since that night meant that he and Jackie spent a lot of time reading up on trauma. The shelves at his home were filled with books about caring for loved ones, for recognizing the signs of PTSD, and—after Malcolm became a teenager—they added books on suicidality as well. Loving Malcolm meant looking up some dark things just to stay on top of what was happening inside the kid.

So, Gil knew exactly what this was. Dissociation. He was dissociating. 

“Um,” Malcolm said, “So…you know. Picture perfect.”

Gil kneeled down, moving his hand to Malcolm’s wrist. He saw the way his breathing was speeding up. “Bright, breathe.”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice sounding strangled. “Excuse me…a second…” he stood and practically ran from the room. Dani was already starting to go after him, but Gil shook his head.

“I’ve got him.”

Gil found him in the bathroom, trying to splash water on his face with hands shaking so hard he could barely manage even that. “Bright…kid,” Gil walked over. He took his wrists, feeling his hands shaking. “Kid…” He just wanted Malcolm to look at him so he could read those eyes that never learned how to hide what they were feeling.

“He was a perfect, Dad. That’s all I’ve ever said. Perfect. He was perfect until he wasn’t. He never touched me. He never touched me.” The shaking was running up his slender frame. Gil felt it hit him in the gut.

“What did he do to you?”

Malcolm finally looked up and Gil saw the tears brimming over his eyes. “That’s just it. I don’t know.” The words fought their way past the emotions choking him up. “I always thought he never hurt me…I always thought.” Gil closed his eyes, not wanting to hear but needing to. Needing to know. He squeezed the back of Malcolm’s neck. “Gil, I…Gil I think he drugged me.” Gil’s eyes snapped open. He felt cold spread through his gut. Malcolm shook his head, “I think…I think he used chloroform, when I was a kid. To make me forget what I saw. I don’t think…I don’t think I called you the night I thought, I think…I think time is missing. And I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s hazy and maybe wrong and…and anything could have happened and anyone could have been hurt and I don’t know…” Gil could take it no longer. He pulled Malcolm into his arms and held him.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice soft.

Anything could have happened, Malcolm had said, but all Gil could hear was, anything could have happened to his kid. The monster behind bars could have done anything to him, there could be even more demons hiding in the broken memories of the young man. Dr. Whitly had drugged a small child. Gil felt furious, he wanted to go straight to the psychiatric prison and…and what? Shake answers out of Dr. Whitly? Do something worse? He felt an overwhelming helplessness too as he held the shaking, crying Bright. This was his surrogate son, his only family left.

Malcolm had new demons now and Gil was not at all certain how many more the kid could handle before he shattered one final time. Before he never found his way back.


End file.
